Spinning Through Time and Space Sounds Fun
by A Truly Brilliant Frog
Summary: A chemical experiment gone wrong. A couple of teenagers alone in a big house. Two men from another time. What on earth could go wrong? Rated T for safety.
1. Chapter 1

I leaned against the back of the couch, my long legs balanced precariously on a head full of beautiful curly golden hair. My footrest, however, was not as pleased with the position as I was. Alice ducked and rolled out from under me.

"Really Mish, really?" she scowled up at my grinning face, grotesque in the pale blue light of the television.

"Yep."

"Guys shut up! I'm _trying_ to listen!" Kaitlynne muttered over the sounds of the movie we were watching. Hold on, what were we watching? Oh yes, we were watching Sherlock Holmes. I grabbed the bag of Fritos and dumped the last crumbs into my mouth. Alice groaned as the screen paused on its own for the third time.

"Mischa? Go unstick it please."

"Why?"

"It's your bloody house!"

"Doesn't mean I know what to do with it!"

"You've lived here for how long?"

"…Three years"

"And you still have no clue how to work your television."

"That's about right."

While this was going on, Kaitlynne stared straight ahead at the frozen television, quietly muttering to herself. I glanced over to her, eyes tired and drooping.

"Y'know guys…why don't we just go to sleep. We can work it out in the morning". To prove that this was a logical thing to do, I showed them the time on my phone. The LED display read 1:02 AM. Definitely time for sleep.

At least, in popular opinion.

It was two hours later when, after a rousing game of Scrabble, we retired on warm overstuffed couches. However, this repose was not to last, as I was awoken several hours later, sometime near sunrise, by the quiet but tell-tale signs of someone else being in the house. I quietly slid my blankets to the floor, and crept out the door.

The house was pitch-black, and silent except for the quiet sounds of confusion emanating from the open kitchen. Truth be told, I knew this house much better than what I let on, and so I managed to slink around the intruder's area and came up behind them, through the miniature hallway which was used to get to my bedroom.

Coming up silently, I stood not a foot away from them, and listened in on their conversation. It went something like this:

"Well, where do you suppose we are?"

"You have asked that question numerous times and still I have no answer."

"With more time, usually comes more observations. I had hoped that you had gathered more information in the time being. However, I do know that we are in a house inhabited by at least three people regularly, and that these people are most likely used to comforts in life. There is more likely than not at least one woman living in the house, as well as an adolescent."

I grew more and more wary as the man began to list off more and more things about my home. How did this man come to these conclusions in the complete pitch black? In my exhausted state, I figured it would be logical to announce my position to these strange men, and so, I flipped on the light.


	2. Chapter 2

A sharp yell from somewhere in the house sent me tumbling from my awkward sleeping position on the couch to the hard floor. I groggily sat up, clambered to my feet and dragged myself out the door.

The sight that greeted me from the kitchen was incredibly strange. Two tall men in coats and hats were shielding their eyes from the harsh light of the kitchen, while Mischa was standing in her usual 'attack' position, legs spread and knees bent slightly, with her hands up in front of her, ready to strike. Without breaking eye contact, she snatched a frying pan from the kitchen counter and held it like a sword.

Then the two men noticed me. In one moment, the taller of the two, a dark-haired, slightly unshaven man, had stepped towards me, his companion had grabbed his arm, and Mischa had darted across the room and sent both men sprawling to the floor.

"Who are you?" She cried at them, pale-faced and angry "And what are you doing in my house?"

I had gotten over my shock moments before, then yelled, "WHAT the bloody HELL is going on?" I rushed over to Mischa at the same time as Kaitlynne finally made an appearance. She stood there in shock as Mischa finally got to us, grabbed both of our collars and high-tailed it back to the back room.

"Mish..." Kaitylnne started.

"What is going on?" I managed to make my voice quiet enough so that the two intruders would not hear me.

"Haven't the foggiest" Mischa, apparently, didn't think that the threat of impending disaster was any time to loose one's sense of humor. "Should we attempt to make contact?"

I leaned out from the entrance to the back hallway, both Mischa and Kaitlynne using their height to lean out above me. "I can't believe we're actually doing this." I groaned.

"Shh.." Kaitlynne shushed me.

Above both our heads, I could hear Mischa begin to speak. "Uh… hi?" The two men turned around. "Who are you?"

"I am Sherlock Holmes and this is John Watson."

"Bullshit"

At that moment, I let out an unladylike snort, and pulled my two friends out of the alcove.

"Prove it. Read me" Mischa, what are you doing?

"You are right handed, and your name is Mary. You spend much of your time writing, and you are most probably a scholar. You are a musician, and you sit at a desk for long hours each day. You have some experience in either Martial Arts or ballet dancing, and you have not lived here for more than three or four years. You have an older brother, and no other siblings. You are an artist, and possibly a boxer. How did I do?"

Mischa stood there, stunned. "My name is not Mary, but Mischa, you were right on all other accounts accounts. How…?"

"You have a callous on your right index finger, suggesting that you write a lot. Your shoulders are slightly rounded from much study, and your fingers are long, and your nails short. That usually means that you are a musician who plays a string instrument, and you are graceful and quick, suggesting that either you dance or you are acquainted with Martial arts. I know that you have an older brother and no other siblings because I took the liberty of viewing your colorized photographs. You are a boxer because of the calluses on your knuckles and the small bruises on your upper arms, which are quite muscular."

"How could you tell I was an artist?"

"One of the paintings was signed 'M. Soncrante' in rather feminine script, and a family crest under the name Soncrante was on the wall. Hence I acquired your name. I chose the most common name starting with 'M'. Admittedly, Mischa was definitely not one of my first guesses."

After a moment of silence, Kaitlynne spoke up. "I think I believe them."

"Strangely enough, so do I"

I glanced out the window. The sun was breaking the horizon, sending swirls of gold, pink, and delecate blue across the grey sky.

"Y'know… why don't we just have some tea and talk?"

Watson, who had been looking rather confused this whole time, sighed in agreement. "Yes please."

Mischa moved towards the kettle.

"No, not you! You'll just put salt in it or something. Here, I'll do it."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: This one's for you, Watson. Your prolonged silence prompted me to write this.**

**P.S. I seem to be unable to write long chapters.**

I had supposed I would be waking up about now, entangled in blankets and listening to my friend's chatter, but, well, I was here, sitting on my friend's couch with a mug of sugary tea in my hands and talking to Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson. We were still on the subject of how they had gotten here.

"So… let me get this straight. Holmes was messing around with chemicals and the resulting explosion brought you two here?" Alice was still dubious.

"Yes." Gotta love John for simple answers.

"Where's Gladstone?" Gotta love Mischa for weird questions.

"He, fortunately, is back home with Mary."

A few moments of awkward silence commenced before Mischa sprang up from her seat on the armchair and ran headlong into her bedroom. She emerged seconds later brandishing a laptop covered in Deadpool and Peanuts stickers. She skipped over to Holmes and Watson on the loveseat and plopped down between them.

As she booted up the computer, Alice and I shared a look. _What is she doing now…?_

Mischa spent the next couple of minutes showing the two late-eighteenth century gentlemen the wonders of the modern world. Alice and I looked on, noting in amusement the range of expressions on their faces.

"I hope she's not showing them 4chan." Alice commented idly.

"Yeah, that place is twice as messed up as we are."

"Have you ever actually been there?"

"I think Mish is the only one of us who has."

This situation went on until Alice noted aloud that we should probably get some sleep. This led to another problem.

"Where are Holmes and Watson going to sleep?"

"I'd supposed that they could sleep on the floor." Mischa happens to be a genius.

"Sleeping bags…?"

"Brilliant. They're in the big linen closet."

After we had found a suitable place for everyone to sleep and closed all curtains and blinds against the morning rays of sunshine, we quietly drifted off to sleep.

I awoke some hours later, with a grumbling in my stomach and hearing loud crashes of cutlery and dishes. I was also alone in the room. I slumped out of the room and into the main room, to be greeted by the sight of Mischa standing at the stove, a huge pan full of sausage and eggs being burnt in front of her. Alice managed, through some sorcery to salvage the meal and we all sat, rather crowded, at the kitchen table.

After we finished eating, Alice brought up a valid point.

"You do realize we're going to have to get them clothes right?"

"Already thought of that. Lucky left behind a whole bunch of stuff when he moved out, and he's six-three. His clothes should fit them." Mischa was pretty useful in situations like this, apparently. We moved to her older brother's spacious, empty room. True to Mischa's word, his closets were still full of oddly fashionable clothes. We set the two men loose and walked out, closing the door behind us.

What they chose was somewhat strange. Holmes was in khaki slacks and a white button-up, while Watson chose grey jeans and a black sweater.

Mischa came out of the kitchen with an empty carton of eggs "Alright, we need to go shopping and- damn. You guys chose well. We can actually take them with us."

Alice and I took that as a sign to go get dressed. We emerged from separate rooms in street clothes, fully clashing with the two men's attire. Mischa was waiting at the door, in an oversized sweater and leggings. I chose not to comment on what seemed like her entire family's odd fashion sense.

Mischa held up a ring of keys with a Totoro keychain triumphantly. "I'm driving!"

Alice and I groaned as we walked out to Mish's tank of a car. _This is going to be fun. Not._


	4. Chapter 4

**I would like to say thank you to all those who subscribed and to all those who liked. And one shout-out to a Guest for commenting. **

Watson's POV:

I walked nervously toward what Mischa affectionately dubbed the 'Iron Giant'. It was massive, black, and looked like it had survived years of a destructive Mischa's childhood. Therefore, I was instantly wary. The automobile was incredibly different from what I was used to driving in my time, with a full iron exterior, and large rubber wheels. The small code Mischa punched in to gain access was also insanely different from what I knew and loved.

Once settled into the car, after a small incident involving a loud yell of 'Shotgun!' from Alice and Kaitlynne subsequently crying 'Rosa Parks!', we pulled out of the stone drive and onto the paved road.

Mischa's driving was surprisingly skillful, in complete opposite to her somewhat erratic personality, and we somehow managed to make it to our destination in one piece, despite the ungodly speeds and other drivers on the road.

Mischa's POV:

In consideration for the two gentlemen in the backseat of my 1997 Ford Explorer with Alice, I toned my fast driving down a bit. I was only going 50, instead of my usual 60-something. My years of driver's training and flight training left me perfectly smooth when turning and braving the over-populated roads. I knew that everyone excluding Holmes was worried sick. Holmes was busy driving Alice crazy.

"What does this do?" A poke of the lock.

"That locks the door." A sigh.

"Why is this blowing air in my face?" A tentative pat of the AC.

"That's the Air Conditioner. It regulates the temperature."

A moment of contemplative silence.

"What are these?"

"That is the 'Oh Shit Handle'." Cue Kaitlynne.

"The what?"

"You grab it when people drive erratically." I know what you're really saying Alice. And I agree whole-heartedly.

I finally pulled into our neighborhood Wal-Mart, parked, and hopped out. The sun was hot on my back, but I led my little group into the store proudly.

When we entered the neon-lit warehouse from hell, there was a moment of stunned silence from Sherlock and John, before I turned and went into Leadership mode.

"Alright, guys, stick close. I don't want to… where the hell is Sherlock." Shit. Not a minute in the store and we had already lost someone. "Kaitlynne, I don't suppose you could…?"

Another sigh. "I'll go look for him."

I turned to Alice and Watson. "Okay, you two, let's go get food. Stick close."

True to form, both blondes had wandered off. Okay, I had gone to get something from the next aisle over, and when I had come back, they were gone. But still, they'd wandered off.

I found them poking at fruit near the deli. A woman walked over. "Can I help you sir? You and your wife seem to have some trouble finding what you want."

I watched as they both turned beet red as they tried to tell the woman that they were, in fact, not married. I sauntered over to them after the employee had left.

"Y'know, if you hadn't wandered off, you wouldn't have been in this situation if you hadn't wandered off."

"Shut up Mish."

Kaitlynne's POV:

I wandered from aisle to aisle, looking for the tall curly-haired man.

"Holmes… Holmes… Hooooooollllllmes…."

I finally found him in the electronics section, sitting on the floor, surrounded by TVs. I felt this was a brilliant idea, and sat next to him.

Alice's POV:

After the embarrassing incident with the fruit and Watson, I was careful to stick close to my tall friend. At the moment, my tall friend was busy attempting to reach something on the top shelf. Finally, she gave up.

"John…help?"

While the doctor busied himself with helping Mischa, I turned and stared at the top of the aisle. Why was that beach ball getting bigger?

Then it hit me.

I stumbled back into Mischa, who fell onto John, who fell to the floor without any available bodies to crash into and break his fall. I faintly heard the snickering of people on the other side. I knew instinctively who was responsible for the pile of bodies on the floor which I was currently a part of.

"Damn it, Kaitlynne!" I cursed loudly, while Mischa hauled me to my feet. My frustration, however, was short-lived as we finally regrouped, paid for our foodstuffs, and trooped out of the store. Which, by the way, I was never going back to.

Stupid employee.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: I'm sorry guys, and those two idiots ( you know who you are),I had this nice long chapter prepared… buut I had to cut it in half, and the second half is kinda crappy, so I'll work on it tonight and post it tomorrow. Shiny? Thanks.**

Even with the abundance of fresh fruits and vegetables that we had acquired, we had still ended up consuming noodles from a strange container that Miss Alice had informed me was called 'Ramen'. The food was coarse, almost, and made my stomach churn. Still, I had had worse, and I choked it down.

"Y'know…" Miss Mischa's slang was strange, she sat with such grace and elegance that one would assume that she was highly educated, yet she acted like an American dockhand. And yet, she was incredibly educated for a girl of seventeen years, and going to enter a college in a year. All of them were, and apparently almost everyone they knew was going to, as well. What a strange world the 21st century was.

"…You've never actually told us the circumstances of your arrival here" I let myself go back. I wasn't quite sure, but I had an inkling I knew.

"One of Holmes's experiments, I would suppose. To my knowledge, they are the main cause of strange adventures."

"That… that makes sense." Miss Kaitlynne spoke up. Suddenly a loud banging echoed throughout the house, the sound ricocheting from stone floor to plaster ceiling to concrete wall.

"Where's-" Miss Kaitlynne began.  
"-Holmes." Miss Alice finished.  
"_Merde_!" Miss Mischa swore, and leaped to her feet, sprinting out of the room, the three of us in close pursuit.

Upon turning a corner and crashing through a door, the four of us presently found ourselves in a small, carpeted bedroom that undoubtedly belonged to Mischa, and Holmes splayed across the floor, his trouser cuff caught on her bedpost. A chair lay on its side, most likely the source of the noise.

"Holmes!" I cried. "What has happened here?" I helped him to his feet as the three women moved around the room, picking things up off the places where they had fallen and onto shelves and tables.

"Well," he began, "I had heard a noise, and I went to investigate, and I found the rotating wooden boards on the ceiling. I noticed that it was moving a breeze around the room in a steady fashion, and so I stood upon the chair with wheels to assuage my desire to discern what made it spin so steadily."

"That's a ceiling fan, and I actually don't know how it works." Miss Kaitlynne clarified.

"Soo, this is your room now." Miss Alice remarked, looking languidly around the room. The walls were an unusual grey, with posters reminiscent of opera and performance advertisements crowding the wall beside the bed, which was made up with similarly grey sheets and a brilliantly green duvet. There was a small hinged desk next to the window, and a bookshelf stuffed to the brim residing right next to the door. On the other side of the door was a large pair of French doors which I assumed lead to the wardrobe, as well as a smaller door next to the shelves. Despite the abundance of shelving and wardrobe space, there were things strewn _everywhere_. Several stringed instruments made their home in the far corner, and piles of books and clothes and magazines were in piles and thrown lazily across the furniture. I counted at least seven pairs of shoes dotting the floor, and the entire apartment smelled of mint.

"This is-" I began.  
"-my room." Miss Mischa finished for me. "And I'd rather appreciate it if we vacated the place, immediately".

Due to the sheer number and size of people crowding the room, it took a bit of shuffling to get through the door. Once in the main room, Holmes turned to the small crowd.

"I quite liked it here, but… I do believe that perhaps it shall soon be time for us to leave."

"I agree, just…. How in the hell do we do that?" Miss Mischa made a valid, if vulgar, point. "Buut maybe…" she muttered, and headed off to her room once more. She slipped in, then poked her head out to shout "Entertain them. Watch a movie. Nothing… y'know." At Misses Kaitlynne and Alice. The two young women in question turned to each other and shrugged, before leading us off into the back room.


End file.
